Licking the roof of my mouth afterward,
I sucked the syrup residue, the sweet
cream sliding down my throat of his kiss, a tang
of sauce flecked with ginger scintillating
behind each tooth, and it spread me out
into the early May dusk, jewelled through me
like a river in the sun’s last light,
circling and washing, and slipped underground
into jagged caves, cutting a new way
into my song, like clovering bees, a slide
of stones underfoot, the rearrangement
of all my molecules.
published in “Roses in the Sand, Your Hand” (FootHills, 2006) http://foothillspublishing.com
Bio: Teresa Gilman thinks the more the work looks like fooling around doing ‘nothing’ the closer
it is to her real work. She writes poems and letters, looks after dogs, practices yoga, and misses people. A lot.
A new chapbook “Itching, itching” coming out this fall from Finishing Line Press. http://www.
finishinglinepress.com Click on “Forthcoming Titles and New Releases” , then scroll down the alphabetical list.